Memoires of a Band Geek
by OzellaMarie
Summary: Have you ever kept a journal? What did yours say? Well, since you won't tell me, let's take a trip down memory lane with a band geek. You never know what you might find out! Drabble. A/H-Mature Themes-Adult Language-Usual Characters
1. Entry 1

**Entry 1**

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><p>February 18, 2012<p>

Dear Diary…

I cannot believe this shit! Didn't any of these people realize that I wouldn't fucking go? Clueless bitches. I don't even know why I asked that question, being as half of them idiots didn't realize I existed and the other half put me through enough hell, even the Lucifer himself would've been impressed. What a joke. I don't know if I should scream or drink a bottle of anti-freeze just to drown out the pain of reliving that horrible fucking time in my life. Things have been going just peachy. And now? Well, if I have nightmares tonight of cheerleaders and other foul unmentionables I might just have to off myself.

It's been hard enough letting the past go, forgetting about the horrible things I'd gone through all those years ago, not to mention the brain dead assholes that I had to share precious air with. Now, here I sit, thinking about it all over again. It's bullshit!

To top things off, I think Riley is cheating on me. I don't have solid proof, but I think the bastard has been going around behind my back. There are so many obvious signs. Well, he'd better hope that I'm just imagining things. I'm not that shy, timid, go ahead and fuck me over girl I was in high school. I WILL chop his hairy nuts off!

What the fuckity fuck am I going to do now? Forks High, thanks a lot bitch! Fuck you! Fuck your class reunion! You fucking suck!

B.

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><p><strong>I wonder which one of you can figure out this fic just by this first chapter? Let's see how many guess I can get! For those who get it right, I will give you a shout out in the next chapter...<strong>

**I am hoping to post a chapter either everyday or every other day. The chapters will be short, just like in a journal entry. Yes, this is a drabble fic, but it's a fun drabble fic! Hope you enjoy!**

**Until next time...**

**OzellaMarie**


	2. Entry 2

**Entry 2**

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><p>February 19, 2012<p>

Dear Diary…

Yes. Yes I did have a goddamn nightmare last night. And no, I did not drink anti-freeze. I know, I'm a pussy, but who gives a shit.

Talked to Charlie today. He said that I should go. He said that it would probably be good for me to deal with my demons. What fucking demons? I don't have any demons. No. What I do have is a shitload of crappy people that I'll have to deal with. Dear ole' Dad said that he'd give me pepper spray just in case. As if I've used the other twenty bottles I've had since the tenth grade.

Oh, and Riley? I'm sure you're wondering about Riley. I still haven't gotten the proof that I need, but with the bastard coming home late into the night, my suspicions seem valid. Now all I have to do is find the gumption to approach him with it. Soon. Very soon.

B.

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><p><strong>Anyone have a supersize bottle of Midol for Home Skillet over here?<strong>

**Any takers on what's going on yet? Let me know!**

**Until next time...**

**OzellaMarie**


	3. Entry 2 Double Entry

**Entry 2- Double Entry**

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><p>February 19, 2012<p>

Double Entry

Dear Diary,

I know that I've already blabbed one time today, and that should've been enough, but it wasn't. Anyway, here goes.

After I tucked you away for the night, I went to take a shower and head to bed. Once I was tucked away, cozy and warm, guess who decides to waltz in the door at 3am? Did you guess? Okay, whatever. Yes. It was Riley the Ass Prince himself. Not only did he reek like booze, he also smelled like a two dollar hooker on half price night. Can you believe it? Well, seeing as though you're only a leather bound book with pages, not to mention an inanimate object, you'd probably believe anything.

Well, long story short, because I do need to get to bed, Riley tried to worm his nasty way into my bed. I asked him why he was home so late and why he smelled like a French whore and his response was, "I was think about buying you some perfume for your birthday and the girl at the counter squirted me with five different kinds." Yeah. I wonder what else she fucking squirted you with! Fucking asshole! And who goes to buy perfume, especially for someone who has an allergy to the shit, at 3am?

Bottom line…I kicked his funky, two-timing ass out!

Oh, yeah, and it isn't even my birthday! Idiot!

Nighty night!

B.

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><p><strong>Damn, this woman has a lot to say! Wonder if she'll ever pipe down. Eh...probably not!<strong>

**Until next time...**

**OzellaMarie**


	4. Entry 3

**Entry 3**

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><p>February 20, 2012<p>

Dear Diary,

Do you ever have those days where things never go the way you'd like them to? Or days where you're convinced that the world is crashing down on you? That was my day today.

Riley called me today while I was at work. He begged me to forgive him and reconsider my decision. I said no, of course, but there was that little part of me that wanted to pretend like nothing ever happened. I'm not that girl anymore. How could I forgive someone who's done me dirty like that? When I asked him to tell me the truth about my suspicions, he told me that yes he'd been cheating. I hung up the phone, went to the restroom, and cried a little. Okay, I cried a lot. I know I kicked him out last night, but that shit still hurts. Oh well. It's over now.

When I got home things weren't any better. The letter stared me in the face again. As soon as I walked through the door it was there, on the counter, taunting me. I stared at it. I didn't move. I just stared. I hate that fucking letter.

That's when the inevitable happened. I thought about that night. The shrieking, shrill laughs, non-stop and un-nerving. How can kids be so cruel? To just sit and watch while someone is being treated that way and not doing anything to help.

I was such a fool to think that they were my friends. And him? Well, he's as much to blame as the rest of them. God, I liked him so much.

Sometimes I wish I had another name for you. Like Daria or Dana, even Diarya. Forget the last one, it sounds like diarrhea. But seriously, you never tell me to shut the fuck up when I complain. You never yell at me when I continuously complain about trivial shit. And most importantly, you're always there.

I gotta go to bed. My head hurts. Plus, I don't think I want to cry anymore today.

Until next time…

B.

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><p><strong>Sounds like B. has a lot of tings to sort out. Kinda feel sorry for the poor girl. <strong>

**Any thoughts? **

**Thank you to all that have read, reviewed, alerted and favorted this little drabble fic. Love to you all!**

**Until next time..****.**

**OzellaMarie**


	5. Entry 4

**Entry 4**

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><p>February 21, 2012<p>

Dear Diary,

I went to Charlie's after work to have dinner with him and Sue. She made tuna casserole. Disgusting. I hate tuna casserole. Charlie knows this. Or he should. Doesn't he remember the time Mom made that shit and I threw up all over the place? Well, maybe it was mom's cooking that did that to me. Oh well, whatever.

So after I ate tuna craperole, I did the unthinkable. I wound up in the attic. Why did I go in the attic? Truthfully, I have no idea. The only thing in that dirty, dusty space is boxes of crap that I have no desire to rummage through. But, subsequently, I rummaged. What did I find you ask? Oh, let's see. I found a box full of pictures that showcased my days in high school. Okay, fuck it! They were pictures of me in full band attire. I hated being in the high school marching band. It was almost like having the plague, walking around school while everyone made fun of the band geek. Why did I let my mom convince me that it would be a wonderful idea? Because I was only fifteen and dumb as hell, that's why. She could've said 'Join the cheerleading squad.' Or maybe even, 'Take up art class. Make something beautiful.' No. the woman suggested band and made it sound glorified. Fuck that! It was anything but.

Okay. The other box held something that I wish I had burned years ago. Navy blue and gold was never my color, especially in the uniform we had to wear. I hated that uniform. My mom loved it. Why did she see it necessary to torture me so? I need to find a desolate place and burn that fucking piece of ugly fabric.

Oh, what the hell. I tried the damned thing on and it still fit. There! You happy now? Ugh!

My stomach hurts. Fucking tuna!

Gotta go! The porcelain throne is calling!

BTW...I started my period. Kind of bitchy. Sorry.

B.

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><p>Ooookay...Keep the tuna away from that one. Good grief. I can't imagine being that grouchy when Aunt Flo arrives. Oh, who am I kidding. Yes. Yes I can.<p>

Hope the drabble is to all your enjoyment!

Until next time...

OzellaMarie


	6. Entry 5

**Entry 5**

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><p>February 24, 2012<p>

Dear Diary,

You're probably wondering what the hell happened to me yesterday. Let's just say that if I could stuff my head up my own ass, I would.

When I got to work, I found an unexpected email in my inbox. I'd tried so hard to make myself hit delete, but I couldn't. The email was almost like that putrid letter I received the other day except this one was from an old classmate. You'll never guess who it was. Hell, I couldn't believe who it was. Not that I'm truly complaining but, really, this guy was just as much an outcast as I was. We hardly spoke to each other in Science class, not to mention he was pretty much out of school a lot due to some funky skin allergy he had that made his skin all sweaty. It almost looked like he sparkled from sweat beads. The dude was a wreck! Anyway, his name's Edward and, by the sound of things, I'm the only one from our senior class he could find that had a searchable email address. WTF! Really? Apparently, he wants to chat sometime before the big day. Fuck that! I am not going, either way! Sorry, Eddie Boy, maybe next time!

Well, gotta get to bed. Cruella the Bitchy Boss will have my head if I'm late.

Until next time…

B.

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><p><strong>Oh, my dear sweet, B. Why must you be such a geek? I bet Eddie Boy might look all kinds of fine by now! <strong>

**Thanks to everyone who's read this goofy ramble, left a review, rec'd, alerted, and favorited. You all rock!**

**Until next time...**

**OzellaMarie**


	7. Entry 6

**Entry 6  
><strong>

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><p>March 11, 2012<p>

Dear Diary,

O.M.G.! I am so, so, so sorry! I cannot believe this shit! Okay, look, in my defense it really wasn't my fault. When I wrote in you last, I went to work the following day, which was Saturday. I had a horrible day and decided to go have a drink and wind down. Needless to say, I ended up at the bar and got completely hammered. I know, I know, it's not my usual but I really needed it. After two Kamikazes and an AMF, I was tore up from the floor up. I remember dancing with some random guy whose junk quickly found itself connected to my knee. Hey, if you feel it necessary to palm my ass without permission then I will find it necessary to make sure that you don't have a working penis the next day!

Anyway, when I got home, after the cab dropped me off (And I do not remember how I managed to catch a cab) everything went fucking fuzzy. I woke up the next morning a heap of a mess. I smelled like a drunken sailor and was sick as hell. Please remind me next time not to overindulge. That shit just is not worth it. Well, when I went to find you the next night, you were gone. Disappeared. In hiding. Nowhere to be found! I searched high and low for your ass but you were gone. I checked the kitchen. Nothing. I checked the bathroom. Nothing. I checked my bedroom. Nothing. It has taken me two weeks to find you. Guess where you were? Ahem…on the nightstand next to my bed. Laugh it up! How in the hell I did not see you there is beyond me!

Well, here you are and here I am. I think I need to stick a GPS on your ass!

Until next time,

B.

P.S. I accepted the invite to the reunion. Fucking fabulous!

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><p><strong>Oh dear Lord! This woman is driving me loony! Who does that shit? Have you ever gotten completely snokered and lost something dear to you? Let's hear about it!<strong>

**A/N: Part of this story will have an Edward POV in his own words. I'm not sure yet if I will be putting it in a diary form or dialog form. We shall see and he shall come!  
><strong>

**Until next time...**

**OzellaMarie  
><strong>


	8. Entry 7

**Entry 7  
><strong>

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><p>March 15, 2012<p>

Dear Diary,

I know. I suck. I have been so busy the past few days that it pains me to even think about it.

Went with Alice on Tuesday to look for an outfit for the reunion. It's not like I'm planning to go all out for this piece of crap shindig. Alice insisted that I get something that will make everyone do a double take. For what? It's not like they're going to care anyway. It's not like a new outfit is going to change anything. Regardless, I spent six hours shopping with my overzealous best friend to leave Macy's with a black cocktail dress that was unsurprisingly two inches above the knee and a pair of black heels that might possibly be used as a deadly weapon if I so choose. Gotta love Alice!

Anyhow, I told my dear BFF that the only way I'd wear the hooker gear was if she went to the reunion with me. Thankfully, the cracked out pixie agreed. When I told her that we'd be spending the weekend in Forks, she about crapped her pants. Apparently, she was hoping for a few days at the Ritz Carlton. No such luck, Duckie!

Well, I gotta get my butt to bed. Boss lady is on her rag and I swear to the baby cherubs, she's evil!

Until next time,

B.

P.S. Edward Cullen emailed me again. I pressed delete.

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><p><strong>Yay! Alice the Cracked Out Pixie will be there! I think this spells trouble!<strong>

**Until next time...**

**OzellaMarie  
><strong>


	9. Entry 8

**Entry 8**

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><p>March 16, 2012<p>

Dear Diary,

Had dinner with Charlie tonight. Sue made Fettuccini Alfredo. It wasn't as bad as the tuna craperole she made the last time I was over there, except this stuff smelled like dirty feet. Go figure. Her nephew Jake was there. He kind of creeps me out. He's huge. No. Huge is an understatement. The guy is built like a Mack truck. I swear to the baby cherubs, he has bulging muscles in his little pinkie. Gross. During dinner, he brushed his hand across my knee. It was disgusting. All I could think about was his long, black, greasy hair flopped over his shoulders, dripping on my face as we, oh gross, never mind. If he washed his hair regularly and brushed his teeth daily, he'd probably be doable. He's so not doable.

After I left Charlie's I came home and checked my emails. Ready for this? You sure? Okay.

Edward Cullen, my new stalker, emailed me again. I almost deleted it. I kind of feel bad not responding to his constant emails. Maybe I should write him back. Ask him what he wants. Tomorrow. I'll email him tomorrow.

Until next time…

B.

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><p><strong>Oh, Bella. Maybe you should answer those emails, my dear. I wonder what home skillet is going to say in her email to Edward?<br>**

**Until next time...**

**OzellaMarie  
><strong>


	10. Entry 9

**Entry 9**

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><p>March 18, 2012<p>

Dear Diary,

Five weeks. Five muthereffin' weeks until the reunion from hell! I don't know if I can do this. Shit, I said hell on Sunday! Shit! I said _shit_! Face palm. Serious face palm!

Anyway, you're probably wondering what the hell (shit, said it again) I've been doing for the last couple of days. Not much to be exact. Went to brunch with Alice. She's crazy. She told me to suck it up and shake it off. Easy for her to say, she wasn't the one who went through the '_stuff'_ in high school that I did. She has no clue.

BTW…I ran into an old classmate today. Actually, I didn't run into her as much as I pulled Alice behind a tall bush near the restaurant where we were eating. Okay, I practically threw her into the alley with me. So what! Why did I do that to my best friend you ask? Simple. Jessica Stanley is a fucking bitch that I had no intentions of sharing happy times with! She's an infested boil on the butt of all that is good.

And the twat muffin still looks the same, blonde hair, blue eyes, legs for days. Fucking bitch.

I'm pissed now, thank you very much. FML!

B.

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><p><strong>This girl needs some serious session time with Dr. Phil!<strong>

**Until next time,**

**OzellaMarie**


End file.
